


Blood Magic

by Lady_Kit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Archive warnings do not apply to all stories, Body Horror, But they apply to many, Disturbing Themes, Each Story is Tagged Individually, IT IS MEANT TO BE DISTURBING, Multi, Psychological Horror, THIS IS A COLLECTION OF HORROR STORIES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit
Summary: Deeds done for love's sake are sometimes the most disturbing.Read each story's tags carefully. This collection is not for the faint of heart.





	1. Worth without measure

**Author's Note:**

> These works are meant to be disturbing. Please read the warnings and proceed with caution.
> 
> Papyrus = Papyrus  
> Sans = Sans  
> Swap Papyrus = Rus  
> Swap Sans = Blue  
> Fell Papyrus = Edge  
> Fell Sans = Red  
> Swapfell Papyrus = Slim  
> Swapfell Sans = Razz  
> Twistfell Papyrus = Twist  
> Twistfell Sans = Blackberry  
> Purple Swapfell Papyrus = Cash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say you can buy anything at the Night Market.
> 
> Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed trigger warning in the endnotes, contains spoilers for the fic.
> 
> Warning for: dark humor, terminal illness, body horror, implication of suicide, and character death.

“stick close, tale-verse,” Cash said, leading Rus through the red gates. “this isn’t the sort of place you want to get lost in.” Rus eyed him skeptically. This wasn’t a Fell-verse. They weren’t even Underground, what could he possibly—

Rus _froze_ , watching a shadowed figure pass a container of milk to a grinning woman. She wasn’t a monster. No variety of monster he’d ever seen, at least. But she wasn’t human either. Couldn’t be. She was dressed entirely in white, no shadow fell behind her, and her toes hovered a full inch above the earth. Even more eerie was the realization that her feet faced the wrong direction.

Rus gripped Cash’s humerus. “cash,” he hissed, “where are we?”

“the night market,” he said, brushing off Rus’ hand. He followed the other Papyrus’ gaze, watching the inhuman woman float through the crowd. “the war never really ended up here, love,” he explained, “just took a different shape. looking back, we should have used guerilla warfare from the start. might’ve been able to carve out a place for ourselves aboveground.” He shrugged. “too late now, of course. we should just count ourselves lucky that these guys managed what we couldn’t. now, c’mon; night’s wasting and believe me, you do not want to get caught here come daybreak.”

Rus swallowed tightly, following on Cash’s heels as they skirted around a horned humanoid and a whirling cloud of sand and fire. As they went deeper into the market, he became even more anxious and jittery. They did not belong here. Sure, they were monsters, but they weren’t _monsters_. And Rus was fairly certain that furred, horned humanoid was eating what appeared to be a human hand. Seeing his gaze, Cash smirked and said, “what’s the matter, rus? it’s just a little finger food.” Rus covered his mouth and bit his knuckles, not sure if he was holding in laughter or incoherent screaming.

“we shouldn’t be here,” he finally managed to say, clutching Cash’s shoulder. “this is—i don’t know what this place _is_ but— _we_ do not belong here—“

Cash spun and gripped him by the back of the neck, his remaining eyelight blazing bright. “do you want to help edge or not?” he snapped, tension strung through every bone in his body.

Rus growled low and deep in his chest, fingers curling around the collar of Cash’s jacket. “don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled, “i would do anything—“ He faltered, bone-deep sorrow transforming his features. The rage drained from him as he thought of Edge. So small in his hospital bed. The strong skeleton laid low, sapped by the disease eating away at his magic. Killing him. Slowly but surely. It was only a matter of time.

Voice choked, he reiterated, “i would do anything for edge. _anything_. but i don’t see how being here is helping anyone. we should be there with him, while we still—“ He whimpered, unable to say ‘while we still have him’ aloud.

Cash lowered his gaze and sighed, pulling him in for a hug. “i know, love. i know,” he said, “hurts me too.” He pulled back and looked into Rus’ eyelights. “i wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t important.”

“you promise?”

“promise.” They regarded each other solemnly, then continued through the market, brushing past a lingering ghoul. “c’mon. the booth we want is just up ahead.”

It wasn’t so much a booth as a tent, shrouded in what looked from afar like black velvet. Up close, however, Rus could have sworn he saw some shimmering stars swimming in the fabric. As if someone had torn a piece from the sky and folded it around a metal frame. The impression was not helped when the material _rippled_ under Cash’s hand as he pulled back the tent flap. He glanced behind to make sure Rus was following, then disappeared into the tent.

Once inside, Rus froze, his breathing stuttering to a stop as the tent flap closed behind him. Aside from the counter before them and the small figure seated behind it, it looked as if they were floating in the middle of space. He looked around, trying to search out the fabric’s seams or the tent’s framework, but endless space stretched to either side. He couldn’t even see the tent flap anymore. His soul hammered, caught between wonder and terror. Cash glanced back at him and smirked. “do yourself a favor, love; don’t look down.”

 _oh_. _stars_.

A hysterical giggle bubbled up, but he covered his mouth to muffle it, choosing to look straight ahead at the…woman(?) behind the counter. She—they? _it_?—leaned forward. She looked…human. Sort of. The overall impression was that of a nonhuman entity trying and failing to successfully masquerade as a human being. There was just something slightly _off_ about her, though Rus couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Then something black and depthless breached the surface of her skin, opening a seam along her neck just long enough to showcase a fiery eye before it disappeared once more.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice sharing a good deal more in common with the buzzing of flies than Rus was really comfortable with. Nor was he going to think about the seams at her cheeks, stretching all the way back to her ears, or how her mouth had opened uncomfortably wide as she spoke. “What do you bring me?” she asked.

Cash turned slightly, motioning Rus forward. “a love story,” he said.

Her eyes widened in interest, her pupils dilating from round pinpricks into three broad lobes, like a clover. Something seemed to flicker behind her eyes, but she blinked—toothed lids snapping shut around the orbs—and her pupils were simple circles once more. “Have you?” she asked, a black, bifurcated tongue flicking out to lick her chops.

Cash looked at him, and Rus faltered, looking between the two of them. “i—“

She beckoned him closer. “Come here, dear-heart.”

Rus hesitated, but Cash pushed him forward, reminding him, “it’s for edge.”

Nodding, Rus stepped up to the counter, coming to stand before her. “we. we met—“ She shook her head, smirking, then she pulled him forward and took him by the jaw. He squeaked, startled, and she— It wasn’t a kiss, though her mouth was flush with his teeth and her tongue was in his mouth. It was more than that. He could suddenly feel her— _them_ inside his skull, like fingers scraping against the inner surface of his cranium. Something twisted around his cervical vertebrae, slick and oily and—was that a sucker? He gagged, but their tongue—too large, too long to be even remotely human—pressed deeper into his mouth. Then his soul jerked in his chest and his sockets went wide, realizing that he could feel delicate tendrils twining around it. He tried to push her off, push himself away, but she had him securely.

They moaned into the kiss, and Rus was suddenly reliving his life with Edge. The first time they met—a rocky encounter, to be sure, but one he looked back on fondly now. Their first kiss: sweet and soft amidst the echo flowers of his home universe. The first time they’d made love. Hearing Edge say, “I love you,” like it surprised him. Like he didn’t even know what to do with such an emotion.

Meeting Cash and Slim and Twist. Loving them too, though not as deeply as he loved Edge. Coming to the surface together. His relief that Edge wasn’t stuck in his hellish Underground anymore. Making a life together. Supporting Edge as he studied for his GED, his bachelor’s, his teaching credentials. Being so proud of his lover’s accomplishments, proud to see him put the violence of his past behind him.

Orange tears coursed down his cheekbones as the memories grew more recent. The diagnosis. The _prognosis_. Seeing the frustration in Edge’s eyelights as he was faced with all the little things he simply couldn’t do anymore. Watching the disease slowly wear him away, beat him down, until he was little more than a shadow of the person he used to be, the person he still wanted to be. Watching the love of his life slowly fade away, a bonfire burning down to a mere ember. Knowing that this was the end. Looking ahead to all the futures they would never have.

They released him all at once, though they paused to lick away his tears. Cash caught him and held him close, rubbing a hand up and down his spine and murmuring soothing words that Rus completely failed to hear, too lost in fresh grief.

“It is a beautiful story,” the _thing_ behind the counter said agreeably, pulling a book from beneath the counter. They poised a finger over the page, ink or black blood beaded on the tip of one clawed finger. “What do you want for it?”

“our lover is dying,” Cash said, “we want him to live.”

They smiled, one half of their face splitting open to reveal row after row of too-sharp teeth. “That is not within my power,” they said, “I cannot grant life. Ask for something else.”

Rus balked, but Cash pushed him back, stepping boldly up to the counter. “then you can’t keep the story,” he said. They looked down at the book, at the bead of ichor on their finger.

They sighed heavily. “It _is_ a good story,” they said wistfully, tilting their head back and shutting their eyes. They drummed their free hand on the counter, as if considering something. “I cannot give life,” they reiterated, looking back at them, “However, I can tilt the scales. Take from one to give to another.”

Rus looked up, pressing against Cash to get as close to them as he would allow. “you can—“

“It is a deal?” they asked, smiling happily. “I may have the story?”

Rus opened his mouth, but Cash pressed a hand over his mouth. “what are the conditions of your boon?”

They focused on him, still smiling. “I can make for you a potion. Whosoever drinks from it will offer up a portion of their life for his sake. A sip and he will gain years. Decades, if they are of a long-lives species. If they drink all, then they will forfeit their life so that he might live his out in full. Is this fair?”

Cash kept a hand over Rus’ mouth. “are there any restrictions?”

“A person cannot offer up what they do not have. Skeletons have long lifespans. If you want him to live a full life, then have only those that are equally long-lived drink from the vial.”

Cash nodded once. “seems fair. we’ll take the potion in exchange for the story.”

“ _Excellent_ ,” they purred, features rippling in excitement. Rus’ sockets widened as their skin shifted and writhed, scales and feathers and a series of lidless eyes flicking over their cheek within moments before becoming simple flesh once more. They pressed their claw against the page, and the bead of ink or blood spread across the vellum, leaving a trail of words in a language that made Rus’ head ache and his soul give a sickening lurch.

When they were finished transcribing the story—stars above, Rus had no idea if that was actually what they were doing, but he certainly couldn’t think of a better descriptor—they reached into their sleeve and produced a glass vial filled with a silvery liquid. They uncapped it and held their claw over the lip, allowing a bead of red to dribble from their claw. It swirled through the silvery fluid for a few seconds, then it leeched into the rest of the vial, turning it a vibrant crimson that looked remarkably like Edge’s magic.

Rus remembered feeling those tendrils tug at his soul and tried not to wonder if that bead of red might actually have been a sample of Edge’s magic. “For you,” they said, passing over the vial. “Thank you for your business. Please, come again.”

Stars, Rus hoped they never needed to seek this creature out ever again.

He reached out, fingers closing over the vial, and the field of stars was replaced with a public square. Rus looked around. “this is. this is where they have the farmer’s market. on saturdays,” he said dumbly.

Cash nodded, dipping a hand into his pocket to retrieve one of his pungent, black cigarillos. Rus thought he looked remarkably calm, until he noticed that Cash’s fingers were shaking too badly to get his lighter to work. Swallowing, Cash eyed the lighter and stuffed it into his pocket, though he left the unlit cigarillo in his mouth. “you got the vial?” he asked. Rus held it up, and Cash shut his working socket, exhaling slowly. “good. i don’t know about you, but i need a drink,” he said, starting to walk toward downtown.

That sounded amazing, actually. Rus tucked the vial into his inventory for safekeeping, then caught up to Cash. They walked in silence for several long moments, but eventually, Rus had to ask, “…cash? how did you…? how did you know about that place? the night market?”

Cash laughed bitterly, taking the cigarillo out of his mouth to say, “i tried just about everything. after my brother—“ He gestured loosely. Sighing, he eyed the cigarillo contemplatively. “but nothing can bring back the dead. not even that _thing_.”

“i’m sorry—“

“fuck off,” he said amicably enough. “no use dwelling on it. not when we’ve got more important matters to discuss.” Rus nodded, though neither of them said anything further until they were properly seated at a booth in Muffet’s diner, a mug of honey and milk in front of Rus and a tumbler of straight maple syrup set before Cash.

“so,” Rus said, after they’d both taken a couple sips of their respective drinks. “i was thinking. there’s ten of us, if we don’t count edge. if we each take a…take a sip from the vial, then none of us will lose a huge portion of our lives, but edge’ll have something close to a normal life span.” He’d gotten louder, more excited as he spoke. It seemed like the perfect solution.

Cash however, sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the booth. “you’re forgetting, love, edge doesn’t mean the same to everyone else as he does to you and me.” Rus’s spine stiffened, fingers clutching at the edge of the table, about to protest. Cash, however, held up his palm and counted off on his fingers. “sans’ll never let papyrus drink from the vial. ever. not even if he takes a drink himself. razz simply won’t. twist and blackberry would both be willing to drink themselves, but neither of ‘em will allow the other to do it. and i know you won’t ask blue. not even for edge.” He held up five fingers. “that leaves you, me, slim, red, and sans. which’d still leave each of us with a pretty good lifespan, but you’re forgetting the biggest problem.”

For a moment, Rus was puzzled, but then he sighed and leaned forward, cradling his skull in his hands. “edge.”

“yeah. edge. bastard’ll never forgive us if we give up even a year of our own lives for his, let alone if we give up decades or centuries.”

Still cradling his head, Rus grumbled, “stupid, stubborn bastard.” Tears pricked at the corners of his sockets. “we don’t have to tell him,” he said after a moment of silence. “we could just….” He trailed off while Cash just smiled sardonically.

“sure, love. five people can keep a secret, if four of them are dead and the other’s mute.”

“so all this was for-for nothing?” he asked desperately. “are we just going to watch him die, then? because he’s too stubborn to let-let us—“ He choked on his words, curling in on himself. Cash pulled him across the seat, tucking him protectively into his side. Rus buried his face in Cash’s coat, ignoring the lingering scent of old smoke and something overly sweet.

Cash ran a hand up and down Rus’ spine and kissed the top of his skull, murmuring soothingly. “let’s just give it a little time, love. see if we can think of something. and who knows? maybe the edgelord’ll pull through. he’s certainly gotten himself outta tight spots in the past.”

Rus clung to him. “i can’t watch him die, cash. i can’t. i _can’t_.”

Sighing, Cash pulled him even closer. “i know, love. i know. you won’t have to. i promise. but, in the meantime, gimme the vial, huh?”

Blinking, Rus pulled back to look at him with teary sockets. “w-why?”

Raising a brow-bone, Cash cupped his jaw and said, carefully, “frankly, i don’t trust you not to do something stupid with it, love. i swear i’ll keep it safe until we can think of something better. edge is a stubborn bastard; he’s not gonna kick it anytime soon. we got time to think about this carefully. no need to do anything rash. you understand me, right?” Rus cast his gaze to the side, unwilling to admit that the idea had already occurred to him. “c’mon, love. i’m just gonna keep it safe. you trust me, don’t you?”

Sighing, Rus dug into his inventory and handed him the vial. “just until we can think of something.” Cash nodded but didn’t let him go. They remained cuddled together in the booth, their drinks mostly forgotten.

Strangely, though, Edge almost immediately started to improve. Not all at once. Not suddenly. Slowly, however, his appetite returned and his soul starting to retain magic, rather than uselessly forcing the mana into his magic nodes. The inflamed mana lines, which had made moving almost torturous, were no longer painfully swollen with the excess magic.

Soon enough, the doctor cleared him for physical therapy, and Edge went at it with gusto, regaining lost bone mass by the day. A year later, and he still wasn’t fully himself, but he was certainly getting there. The doctor had no explanation for it. She just smiled enigmatically, saying that they should consider leaving a few offerings at the temple, next time they went down that way. Rus, of course, was suspicious. But when he spoke to Cash about it, he’d only shrugged and shown him the full vial of crimson liquid.

“so all of that? it was…pointless?” Rus asked as they walked through that same square nearly a year later, looking up at the stars. He didn’t need to clarify. Cash well knew who—or what, rather—he was talking about.

Cash shrugged. “who knows?” he said, kicking a crumpled soda can across the square. “maybe _it_ lied. maybe it’s more powerful than it let on. maybe it liked your story enough that it didn’t want to see it come to an end too soon.”

Hands in his pockets, Rus considered that. “maybe,” he said, though the explanation didn’t feel right.

“does it really matter?” Cash asked, as they approached the restaurant. “he’s alive. that’s what’s important, right?”

Rus paused outside, smiling slightly. “yeah. you’re right.” He pulled the door open, grinning when he saw Edge, Slim, and Twist seated together in a booth. Twist and Edge were bickering good-naturedly about something, while Slim watched with his head pillowed on his arms, grinning at their antics. Rus paused in the doorway, his soul clenching pleasantly at seeing all his lovers in one place.

For a long time, Edge hadn’t felt well enough to venture out like this, and the four of them hadn’t been able to spend much time together without their thoughts drifting to their missing member. This would be their first outing without the pall of Edge’s illness hanging overhead. “that’s what’s important,” he agreed, then headed over to the booth. He slid in beside Edge while Cash slid in on the other side, throwing his arm over Slim. “what’d we miss?” he asked, smirking when Twist and Edge both tried to fill him in on their argument at the same time.

 

Cash considered the nearly empty container. One more dose left, he guessed, and Edge would have his entire life before him. As he should have from the beginning, if fate wasn’t such a cold-hearted bitch. It had been easy enough to empty the vial into another container. Even easier to get a sample of crimson magic to fill the vial. Cash couldn’t even tell the difference; Rus certainly couldn’t hope to. It was better that he not guess at what Cash was up to; he didn’t need that guilt hanging over his head. That’s why he’d staggered the doses too, so Rus wouldn’t get suspicious. A year out, though, and he thought it was pretty safe to finally finish it.

He tucked the container back into his inventory and walked down the hall, yawning and scratching at his ribcage. He wondered how it would happen. An accident? Disease, like Edge? Or would his soul suddenly crumble into dust, entirely without explanation? It didn’t really matter one way or the other. He was just curious.

Pausing in the doorway, he surveyed Slim, curled on his side and tucked amidst the soft sheets. Cash smiled fondly, soul warming. It really was better this way, he thought. Rus’ idea had been a good one, splitting the vial amongst all of them, but this was much better. Why should the five of them suffer when the burden only needed to fall to one? He climbed into bed beside Slim, nuzzling his cervical vertebrae.

Stirring sleepily, Slim smiled and spun in his arms, kissing the underside of his jaw. Cash sighed, tilting his head back to give him better access. The other skeleton felt so good in his arms. Cash often wondered what he had done to earn the smaller monster’s affection. He certainly didn’t deserve it. As Cash leaned down to kiss him lightly, he wondered absently when he should administer the last dose.

He supposed he could stop by Razz’s office and drop off coffee for him again. Razz wasn’t even suspicious of it anymore. Not since Cash had made it obvious he was trying to earn the smaller monster’s approval, saying that it was important to him that his lover’s brother bless their relationship. Flattery worked wonders on Razz.

He scratched Slim’s coronal suture, telling the other skeleton that he was beautiful, that Cash loved him dearly, that he was so happy with him. Slim tilted his head back, sockets closed. Basking in the praise.

Slim would hate him, if he ever found out. But anyone that knew the brothers well knew that Slim would be better off without Razz.

Really, this was the best solution for everyone involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed trigger warning contains major spoilers for the fic.
> 
> Warning for: dark humor involving cannibalism, terminal illness (that does not end up being terminal), body horror, eldritch abominations, implication of sacrificing oneself for another, and murder (no on-screen death, but it is heavily implied that Razz will soon be killed).


	2. A matter of trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twist is losing himself. Blackberry has a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed trigger warning in the endnote contains spoilers for the fic.
> 
> Warning for drug use, suicidal themes, and heavy non-con, including bondage, kidnapping, and rape. **Please read the detailed trigger warning if there are themes you cannot handle in fiction. This is a rough one. Mind yourself.**

Blackberry surveyed Papy, smoothing a hand over his brother’s metatarsals. Papy exhaled shakily, slowly releasing the blankets bunched between his fingers. His extremities were tense and twitchy, and his breathing was shallow and rapid, despite the drugs in his system. “Papy?” Blackberry asked, sitting on the bed beside him, “Can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

Papy snickered even as his shoulder twitched violently. “Jus’ peachy bro,” he slurred, allowing his head to roll back. “Ya ought’a package this shit.” His accent was thicker, but he still seemed coherent, so that was good.

“I’m not sure the human authorities would appreciate that,” Blackberry said, scooting closer to his brother.

Papy flinched away. “Don’,” he said, “Still not safe.” His magic had faded out a bit, but his damaged eyelight was still blown out and spent magic was seeping from between the cracks in the socket.

“Papy, you can barely move. I doubt you’re capable of hurting me right now.” Despite Papy’s groan of protest, Blackberry cuddled up beside him, pulling a book from under his arm. “Do you want me to read to you?”

Still shaking, Papy nodded. “Sure, bro. Gimme sumthin’ else ta think about, yeah?”

Blackberry opened the book and started to read, keeping his voice low and his cadence smooth and relaxed. Slowly, the tension went out of Papy’s limbs and his breathing evening out. Blackberry liked to believe that his voice had finally managed to soothe him, but he thought it was more likely that the drugs had finally seized him fully. Papy sighed in relief and, still mostly paralyzed, allowed his arm to knock against Blackberry in parody of a hug. “Love ya, bro,” he said, sockets shut and head tilted back, “Thanks. Fer doin’ this.”

Ducking his head, Blackberry smiled and pressed into Papy’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “I’m always happy to help, brother.”

For a long time, Papy was silent. Then, though, he said, very softly, “Nex’ time I get like that…you oughtta up the dose.”

Blackberry snorted. “Papy, if I gave you much more, it would probably kill you.”

He did not expect the reply. “I know.”

For a few seconds, Blackberry was frozen. Then he shot upright and looked Papy in the socket. His good eyelight was still hazed, but the other eyelight had gone dark again. “Why would you—?” Blackberry took a steadying breath. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he finally said firmly, “The drugs are affecting your judgment. We’ll talk about this when you’re yourself again.”

Papy shut his sockets, head tilted forward. “Bro,” he said softly, “ ‘s happenin’ more often. ‘m losing myself. I can’t hold on ferever, Sans. Not even fer you.”

Blackberry caught his face between his hands. “Don’t,” he said, shaking. “Don’t say things like that.” His sockets burned and tears gathered in the corners. “You don’t have to hold out forever. Just until the royal scientists figure something out. They’re working together now. They’ll-they’ll—“

As the tears fell, Papy met his gaze, smiling sadly. “ ‘s okay, bro. We made it ta the surface, right? ‘s more’n I ever thought I’d get ta see.” His hand twitched, but the paralytic wouldn’t allow him to raise it any further. “An’ ya got a whole set ‘a Papyrus-es ta look after now. Cash’ll definitely need ya ta look in on ‘im now an’ then. Poor fucker needs a Sans ta look out fer ‘im, right?”

Blackberry wasn’t really listening. “Papy—“ He choked on his words, starting to cry in truth. “Don’t talk like that. You don’t mean it. You don’t—“

His hand twitched again, but Papy still couldn’t reach him. “Sorry, bro,” he said softly, “I don’ want ta upset ya. I jus’…” He shut his sockets. “I need ya to be ready.”

“ ’m not gonna kill you!” Blackberry said, dark blue tears staining his cheeks as his accent started to slip into his speech. “No matter what happens. Yer my _brother_.” He sobbed openly and threw his arms around Papy’s neck, burying his head into Twist’s cervical vertebrae. “Yer gonna be fine. We’ll figure something out. Yer not gonna—yer not gonna—“

Papy’s shoulder pressed into him, his best approximation of a hug while the drugs were still in his system. “Sorry, bro,” he murmured, “Yer right. ‘course yer right. Don’ cry. I was jus’ being stupid. Yer right. Everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Blackberry squeezed him tighter, hating the lie. Hating that he found comfort in it anyway. Sobbing against his brother’s shoulder, Blackberry silently vowed that he wasn’t going to let his brother lose himself. No matter what it took. No matter the price. He wasn’t going to let Papy’s LV get the better of him.

 

Twist really wished he hadn’t brought up his concerns. Blackberry had been acting strangely for weeks now, and he knew that it was his fault. ~~He should have just called up the edgelord. Or Cash. Hell, _Razz_ might have been willing to throw him a bone (heh). Little bastard didn’t like him much to begin with. Any of them would have been willing to help him out when the time came. And he was afraid that it would be sooner rather than later.~~

He was jittery again. Tense and snappish. He could already feel himself teetering on the edge. The littlest thing could set him off right now, turn him into exactly the kind of monster he didn’t want to be. That’s why he was out here. Alone. Under the canopy of pine trees, the world was silent and still, just the occasional birdcall or whisper of wind through the needles. There was literally nothing out here to aggravate his LV, and if he did finally drop off that edge…well. There was nothing out here to hurt either.

He leaned against the tree at his back, keeping his breathing slow and deep. It was hard to focus his thoughts. They kept scattering and drifting, and it was even harder to still his body. Sitting cross-legged, his knee bounced and his fingers tapped against a femur. Soon enough, he had to jump to his feet and start pacing the clearing. Time passed in a blur. He paused in his nth circuit and realized that at some point, night had fallen. Blackberry would be looking for him now.

Scraping a hand over his skull ~~and resisting the urge to dig his claws into his coronal suture~~ , he checked his watch and cursed. It was late, which meant it would be _very_ late by the time he finally got home. Blackberry wouldn’t even be angry with him. Just worried. Maybe even a little disappointed. Blackberry deserved a better brother than the likes of him.

 ~~Stars, sometimes Twist wished he wasn’t such a fuck up wasn’t so fucked up wasn’t so scattered so erratic so _twisted up_~~ — ~~Blackberry’d probably be better off, when Twist finally did kick it. It was high time for them to face reality, but both of them continued to cling to each other, desperately hoping they could somehow hold off the inevitable, despite all evidence to the contrary.~~

As Twist walked back to the road, he considered his options. Edge would be his best choice, he thought. He’d understand, and he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Digging out his phone, Twist made the call, but Edge didn’t answer. Frowning, Twist looked at the phone, confused. Edge _always_ answered his phone. Shrugging, Twist tried again, but again, it went to voicemail. Still frowning, he considered his second choice. He wasn’t as ideal. But…. Twist dialed, and Cash picked up. “the fuck do you want, radish-head?” He was in his living room, watching an old western.

Twist smiled, amused by the nickname. He supposed it was meant to be an insult, but it had never bothered him. “Heya, patches! Would ya mind comin’ ta pick me up?”

Cash sat up, and Twist had to pause, momentarily disoriented by the vertigo of watching the world shift around him all without ever actually moving. “where are you?” he asked, “your berry called earlier, looking for you.”

“ ‘m off the highway, out by the lake. I can give ya the coordinates, if yer comin’ out ta pick me up.”

Twist’s vision cleared for a moment as Cash closed his eyes. “you’re—“ Cash exhaled hard. “what the hell are you doing out there at this time of night?”

“Mostly scarin’ passin’ motorists,” he lied. He hadn’t seen another person for hours now, and he’d only just now reached the highway. “Fer some reason, no one’s willin’ ta pick up a seven-foot-tall hitch-hikin’ skeleton monster out in the middle ‘a nowhere. Don’ know what the world’s comin’ ta anymore. ‘s unfriendly is what it is.”

Cash started cursing, and Twist grinned. “you’re an idiot,” he finally said, “give me your coordinates. i’ll be out there as soon as i can.”

“Yer a real peach, sweetheart. Thanks a—“

“save it. just give me your damn coordinates.” Twist checked his GPS and rattled off the number. Before he hung up, Cash paused to ask, “how did you even get out that far anyway?”

“Took the bus.”

Cash growled. “you’re a damn mechanic, twist. buy a damn car like a normal damn person. especially if you’re going to stay out after the buses stop running.” He hung up when Twist just started laughing.

Sitting on the guardrail, Twist amused himself by singing some half-remembered tune, rolling seamlessly from one song into another with no particular rhyme or reason. It was about an hour before Cash arrived to pick him up, pulling into the turnoff and kicking up as much dust as possible. Stretching, Twist walked over and leaned his arm on the roof of Cash’s sports car. “Heya, darlin’. Lookin’ fer a good time?”

“twist. get in the damn car before i run you over with it.”

“Promises, promises.” For a moment, Twist paused, grin dropping as he looked away. “Hey, patches, didja tell anyone ya were comin’ out ‘ere ta pick me up?”

“no. why?”

Twist drummed his fingers on the roof of the car, thinking. ~~He could ask now. No one but Cash would ever really know what happened to him. No one would blame the other skeleton. They’d just think that Twist had finally gotten himself into a bind he couldn’t worm his way out of. They wouldn’t even be surprised, really. It might…it might be for the best. Cash didn’t even need to do it himself—~~ ** _Twist just didn’t want to be alone_** ~~, there at the end~~.

A car horn startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to Cash. The other skeleton’s remaining eyelight bored into him, vibrant and burning. And all too knowing. “get in the car, twist.”

 ~~In that moment, Twist realized that Cash wasn’t an option. It would have to be Edge or Razz then.~~ Pasting on a smile, Twist pulled open the door and hopped inside, while Cash revved the engine, tearing off into the night before Twist had even buckled his seatbelt. He leaned back, enjoying the smell of new car and the press of leather against his spine. “Thanks again, sweetheart. Would ‘a been a long walk back home, if not fer—“

“shut up,” Cash snapped, “i’m not doing this for free. you _owe me_ ; you got that?”

Twist snickered. “Aw, darlin’,” he said, “Ya ain’t gotta hold shit over my head if ya want sumthin’. All ya gotta do is ask. Ya know that.”

Glaring straight ahead, Cash exhaled hard, somehow angered by that. “what the fuck were you doing out here anyway? and don’t try to bullshit me. it’s past midnight—i’m not in the mood for it.”

“Jus’ clearing my head, sweetheart. Cleanin’ out the cobwebs.” He snickered. “Don’ ya hate it when ya wake up with a spider crawling around in yer skull? ‘s the fuckin’ worst. Really is.”

Cash glanced at him briefly, only to jerk his gaze back to the road, growling slightly. “you aren’t going to give me a straight answer, are you?”

“Sorry, darlin’. Only got twisted ones.” He laughed at the pun, amused when Cash just pressed his foot to the pedal in response, expertly navigating the winding mountain road at speeds that would have had a saner monster screaming. Twist just whooped and grinned broadly, adrenaline making his soul pulse.

“Hey?” he suddenly asked, struck by a thought, “You know that old nursery rhyme? _There was a crooked man, an’ he walked a crooked mile_ —? Do ya remember the rest ‘a it? I only got bits an’ pieces.”

“no.”

“Too bad.” Twist considered the matter. “Guess we’ll just have ta make up the rest ourselves then!” Groaning, Cash just pressed the pedal down further, taking the next turn at a, frankly, unsafe speed.

With Cash at the wheel, they made it back to Ebott in record time. Cash dropped him off at his house, though he caught Twist’s arm before he could open the door. “that favor,” he said, glaring at Twist. “i’m calling it in.”

“Right now? Tha’s unlike you.”

“right now,” Cash affirmed, “any time you need to ‘clear your head’, you give me a call. that’s the favor.”

Twist’s soul dropped. “You know, fer being half-blind, ya see more’n yer entitled to,” he said, voice tight.

“give me your word, twist.”

“Fine, fine. Next time I need ta—“

“ _no_. not ‘next time’. _any time_. whenever your lv is getting to you, you call me. understand?”

“Yer worse’n my bro,” Twist complained, “If I wanted a lecture, I’d ‘a called ‘im instead.”

“well, too fucking bad. you’re getting one anyway, jackass. now: your word.”

Sighing deeply, Twist made his promise, figuring he would find a work around later. Or just break it entirely. Cash didn’t know him nearly as well as he thought he did, if he thought Twist valued his honor more than the other monster’s safety. “Satisfied?” he asked. When Cash nodded, Twist gave a lazy salute and got out of the car. Leaning down, he winked and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Had a blast.”

Cash just shook his head, sighing deeply. “i’m holding you to that promise, twist,” he cautioned before driving off, one hand out the window to flip him off. Twist blew a kiss, hoping Cash could see him through the rear-view mirror.

He walked up to the house, dread making his soul clench. The kitchen light was on, but the rest of the house looked dark. That probably meant Blackberry was waiting for him. He paused outside the door, head down, then he took a deep breath and forced a smile, humming as he opened the door. But Blackberry wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. Blinking, Twist padded through the house, looking for him, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Not in his room. Not out in the garden. Not even in the bathroom.

Oddly, though, he found the remains of lunch laid out on the dining room, like Blackberry—and four of their friends—had been called away suddenly. Huh. That was…odd. Blackberry almost always cleaned up immediately after a meal. It simply wasn’t like him to leave plates and leftover food out on the table. Furthermore, Twist hadn’t known Blackberry was planning on inviting anyone over today.

Scratching the back of his neck, Twist wondered where he might have gone, but then he remembered the basement. They really didn’t use it for anything but storage, but Blackberry had been busy lately, clearing it out and cleaning it up. For reasons he hadn’t explained to Twist, but it was hardly out of character, so Twist let it be. Pushing open the door, he poked his head in. “Hey, bro? You down ‘ere?” he asked. The stairwell was hidden behind a series of tall shelves, concealing the rest of the basement from view. Twist could tell the light was on, though, so he started down the steps, fairly certain he’d located his brother. The stairs creaked as he made his way down. “Bro?” he called again, and this time, Blackberry answered.

“Papy!” he called out, “You’re back!”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping into the basement proper, “What’re ya doin’ down….” He trailed off as he came around the shelves, staring at the scene before him. “…bro…? What’s….” He surveyed the large wooden crates set up in the center of the basement. “What’s goin’ on here?”

Blackberry ran up to him. “I figured it out!” he said, bouncing on his toes excitedly. “Come here, brother! Look!”

Limply, Twist allowed Blackberry to take his hand and lead him over one of the crates. The interior was padded with blankets and pillows…and Twist’s soul clenched when he saw the two small bodies curled amongst the blankets. “ _Bro_ ,” he said, voice choked. “What’d ya— _what’d ya do?_ ”

Razz and Blue were leaning against each other, stripped naked and bones gleaming in the dim light. Their forearms were overlaid atop the other skeleton’s humeri, the bones bound with sturdy cords. Their hips were bound at the pubic symphysis, so neither of them could move without dragging the other along. Twist might have assumed that this was just some kind of weird sex thing, except he knew his brother would never agree to oversee such a thing. Furthermore, while Razz and Blue had been dancing around each other for a while now—Cash had started a betting pool months ago, actually—Twist was fairly certain that they hadn’t skipped ahead to the kinky sex stage of the relationship.

“They understood,” Blackberry said, tightening his grip on Twist’s hand, “so it was much easier for them. Edge and Rus are being difficult, but I’m certain it’s just a matter of time now.”

“Edge an’—?” Twist looked over to the other crate. Only now did he realize that he could hear something grunting and growling over the rush of magic through his skull. Pulling away from Blackberry, he approached the nest and stopped, one hand pressed to his mouth to hold in a scream.

It was hard to tell, exactly, where one skeleton ended and the other began. Both Edge and Rus were gagged and stripped naked. Edge’s arms were bound behind his back, but Rus’ arms were looped behind Edge’s torso, his wrists bound to Edge’s clavicles—a parody of an embrace. More cording was looped between their ribs, binding their sternums together. Again, they were bound at the pubic symphysis. Unlike the Sans-es, though, they were both awake and struggling. Well. They were trying, at least. The only result was something that might have been erotic if it wasn’t utterly horrifying.

Both of them caught sight of him at once, and they started screaming around their gags, kicking their feet. Shaking his head, Twist held up a hand. “Gimme a second,” he said, leaning into the crate, “I’ll get ya outta this, don’ worry—“

Blackberry caught his hand. “Brother,” he said, a warning in his tone, “leave them there. This is for the best.”

As a rule, Twist didn’t lose his temper. And if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t lose it with Blackberry. This time, though, he came close. “Sans, what’re ya—what’re ya talkin’ about!?” he exclaimed, gesturing first to one crate and then the other. “What is this? Why would—why would ya ever think this was okay? This is kidnapping, Sans. This is—“ He didn’t want to say the ‘r’ word, but he kept thinking of Razz and Blue, bundled together in that nest of blankets. “This is _rape_. I can’t believe ya would—“

Blackberry recoiled, hurt. “No,” he said, shaking his head firmly once he’d recovered himself. “ _No._ No, I wouldn’t—“ He took a steadying breath and pressed forward, taking both of Twist’s hands in his. “Brother, please, just listen. Just give me a few minutes to explain— _please_. I swear; I’m doing this for them. Just. Just listen, okay?”

Twist looked back at the crate. “You have two minutes,” he said sharply, surprised he was giving Blackberry even that long. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have allowed them that much.

However, Blackberry smiled broadly and brought him over to the back wall, away from the others. Hearing Edge and Rus continue to scream behind their gags, Twist glanced back at them, but he allowed himself to be dragged over. Two minutes. That’s all. Then he’d free them. “I’ve been talking to the scientists,” Blackberry said, “and they’ve noticed something interesting. Now that our universes have merged, some of the Fell monsters are starting to date and fall in love with some of the Tale-verse monsters. A few of them have even soul-bonded.” A beatific smile broke over Blackberry’s face. “And do you know what they’ve found?”

Twist, who was still staring at the crates, turned back to him. His jaw was tight and his shoulders tense. Blackberry deflated a bit, but he pressed forward, “Fell monsters soul-bound to monsters without LV are more stable. They don’t feel the same violent urges anymore, and their LV isn’t as active. You understand, right, Papy? This is it. _This is the solution_.”

Twist understood. He definitely understood. He took a step away, shaking his head. “No,” he murmured, “No. Please, bro. Don’ tell me ya did this—“ His breathing started to hitch. “Don’ tell me ya did this ‘cause ‘a _me_. Please. Bro, I can’t—“

He hit the wall, and Blackberry caught up to him, squeezing his hands. “A soul-bond,” he said firmly, “It’s perfect, Papy. Don’t you see? This isn’t just about you—it’s for them too. Edge and Razz don’t have as much LV as you, but their LV is still high. They would have fallen eventually, but not if they have someone to act as their anchor.”

His features softened a little, and he ran a thumb over Twist’s metacarpals even as Twist pressed himself into the wall. “We all know they’re made for each other anyway. Razz and Blue were already headed down this path.” He smiled brightly. “And Edge and Rus? They might act like they hate each other, but that’s only because they’re too stubborn to admit their real feelings. They would have ended up bonded too. It was only a matter of time. I’m just speeding things along. I had to be _sure_. I had to know for certain it would work before—“

Twist’s soul dropped. “Before ya tried it on me,” he said, feeling light-headed.

Blackberry smiled at him. “You do understand then,” he said.

Twist glanced over at the two crates again. “Bro, let ‘em go,” he said hoarsely, “this is—this is _wrong_. It’s too far. Ya can’t—ya can’t force people ta soul-bond.”

Misunderstanding his meaning, Blackberry said, brightly, “Actually, it’s easier than you might think!” He bounded away, leaving Twist pressed into the wall, and went to fetch a covered jar. “A mild aphrodisiac—and some stimulation from their chosen mate—and they manifest their souls readily enough. After that, well….” He uncovered the jar and Twist slid slowly down the wall, the strength going out of his legs. Rus and Edge’s souls hovered in the center of the jar, but Blackberry had stitched them together with thin red thread. He looked down at Twist, still smiling. “I’ll remove the stitching once they’ve finally allowed the bond to form.” He held up the jar, frowning a bit. “I had to crack Edge’s open a little, since his LV has hardened the outer layers, but I don’t think I did any permanent damage to it or to him.”

Curling into a tight ball, Twist just shook his head, raking his claws over his skull. “ _Sans_ —“ His voice faded out, choked by horror.

Tucking the jar under his arm, Blackberry pushed his hands away. “Don’t do that, Papy,” he said, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up, and Twist let out a sound that was midway between a whimper and a laugh. “Bro. Let ‘em go. Please,” he said once he’d finally gotten ahold of himself. “You can’t do this. It’s—stars, it’s _wrong_.”

Growing more serious, Blackberry cupped his jaw and tilted his head up. “Brother. I want what’s best for you; you know that, right? And I want what’s best for them too.” Firmly, he squeezed Twist’s jaw and said, “I’m not losing you. I’m not losing _any_ of you.” Twist tried to shake his head, but his brother’s grip was too tight. “Don’t be stubborn,” he said, “This is for the best. Don’t you trust me? Haven’t I always had your best interests at heart?” Voice choked, he said, “I wouldn’t do this if there was any other way, brother. But we’re running out of choices and we’re running out of time.” He trailed a hand over Twist’s cheekbone even as dark blue tears beaded in his sockets. “Papy, it’s the only way.”

Suddenly, light flared from the jar, and both of them watched as Rus’ soul produced several tendrils that snaked out and speared Edge’s soul. From the nest, Edge started making a strangled sound, while Rus just moaned. They struggled with each other for a little longer, but slowly, similar tendrils extended from Edge’s soul to sink deep into Rus’. Twist, horrified, just covered his mouth again, swallowing tightly. “There,” Blackberry said, satisfied. He looked over at the crate and approached the panting skeletons, reaching inside to pet each of their skulls. “That wasn’t so hard, right? I’m so proud of you both.”

He unscrewed the lid and gently pulled their souls out. With careful hands, he snipped the red thread and pulled it free. He let go, and the souls hovered between the two Papyrus-es, remaining attached while the bond solidified between them. Twist was glad he couldn’t see their expressions. He didn’t want to know what they were thinking or feeling right now.

Brushing himself off, Blackberry backed away from the crate and returned to his brother’s side. “See, Papy? They know this is for the best. They just needed a little convincing. Now, the question is…” He looked Twist up and down. “…would Papyrus or Sans be a better match for you?”

If Twist could have, he would have wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed trigger warning contains spoilers.
> 
> Trigger warning: consensual and non-consensual drug use, themes of suicide and assisted suicide, concerns regarding loss of sanity/LV issues, heavy non-con, including non-consensual bondage, kidnapping, mild soul mutilation, and forced soul-bonds. There is no genital contact, but this is definitely rape.


	3. Broken pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tale-verse monsters are in agreement. Edge and Red would be much better off in Underswap.
> 
> Now it's only a matter of persuading them to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic injuries and manipulation.
> 
> This is basically an alternate ending for Broken Bones, but I've done my best to make sure it could stand alone. It might contain some mild spoilers, though.

Blue surveyed the kitchen and took stock. They had muffins and fresh granola, yogurt and fruit compote, pancakes…. What else did they need? What else _could_ they need? He and Papyrus shared a look, suddenly struck with the knowledge that there was really nothing else they could do at this point. Papyrus wrung a dishtowel between his hands, picking at the fringe. “WE COULD MAKE TEA?” he suggested.

Grateful for something to do, Blue darted over to the stove and retrieved the kettle. With inordinate attentiveness, he filled it and returned to the stove, carefully turning on the burner. Then he was once more faced with the realization that there was nothing more to do. They’d made more food than even the five of them could possibly eat, gathered nearly all the pillows and blankets in the house to prepare a proper nest, and the first aid kit was on standby, ready for whatever state Edge and Papy and Red might be in when they finally got back.

There was _nothing else_. Nothing left to do. Nothing but to wait. And worry.

“…They’ll be okay,” Blue said, not looking at Papyrus. “Edge has lived in Underfell his whole life. And. And Papy can teleport! They’ll….” He let out a shaky breath and swallowed tightly, deliberately not thinking about Edge’s shattered ribcage and Papy’s low HP. “They’ll be fine,” he said again, covering his uncertainty with false conviction.

“OF COURSE THEY WILL!” Papyrus boomed, though he continued to twist the towel between his fingers. “SURELY UNDERFELL ISN’T-ISN’T AS BAD AS….”

They shared a look. Their brothers might think them naive…but neither of them was stupid. They well knew where Edge and Red had earned their scars, knew that the Fell monsters’ standoffishness was a result of their universe. Blue had seen the state of Edge’s ribcage, had seen Red literally drag his younger brother through the door two days prior, dripping mana and marrow all along the way. He’d also seen Edge’s expression when he realized that Red had returned to Underfell alone, for purposes unknown. Swallowing tightly, Blue said, voice soft, “Papy wants them to stay.”

Papyrus looked up. “I THOUGHT HE AND EDGY-ME DIDN’T GET ALONG.”

“They….” Blue looked away, thinking over the events of the previous day. “They’re getting better. I think in time…they could be friends.” Or more, though he wasn’t yet sure how he felt about that. He’d had a crush on Edge since they first met. Edge had regarded him with the same suspicion and mistrust that he treated everyone with. He didn’t dismiss Blue because he was small and friendly and _cute_. And maybe it was wrong of Blue to be flattered that Edge obviously considered him to be a threat…but he was so often treated as a child or an innocent incapable of doing harm that, honestly, it was hard not to be. It would have been natural to feel a small thread of jealousy, seeing his brother and Edge start to connect despite their continued animosity. Rather than jealous, though, he was just…intrigued. “But I’m not sure Papy’s motives are wholly…altruistic.”

Papyrus looked at him. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

Shrugging, Blue looked away. There really wasn’t any polite way to say that he was worried his brother was allowing his newfound attraction to Edge to affect his judgment. “I just think he might have some ulterior motives….”

“WELL,” Papyrus said carefully, “IF IT GETS THEM OUT OF THEIR UNIVERSE…IS THAT REALLY A BAD THING?”

Blue rubbed his humerus, going over to the stove to turn off the burner as soon as the kettle started boiling. “I suppose not…” he admitted as he poured hot water over the tea leaves. “I worry about Edge and Red,” he said, still holding the hot kettle. “Especially after seeing Edge like that? His ribcage….” He shut his sockets, and Papyrus walked up behind him, rubbing a soothing hand over his neck and upper back. “I want them to stay too,” he whispered, voice choked, “I just want them to be safe. I don’t want to worry about them anymore, worry about them fighting for their lives. What if—?“ He took in a shuddering breath. “What if something happens to them? What if, one day…we just never see them again?”

Papyrus carefully pried the kettle from his fingers and set it aside, then tucked Blue against his chest. “We’ll think of something, Blue,” he said, lowering his voice. “We’ll find a way to convince them to stay.”

Blue sank into the embrace, grateful for Papyrus’ steadying presence. “Do you really think so? Edge is…Edge. And Red won’t stay without his brother.”

Papyrus smirked, revealing a bit of the cunning he usually concealed. “AREN’T WE THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND THE MAGNIFICENT SANS? DO YOU REALLY THINK EITHER OF THEM COULD STAND AGAINST US SUCCESSFULLY?”

Despite everything, that did make Blue giggle just a little. “I guess not,” he said, eyelights sparkling. “You’re right. We’ll figure something out.”

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT!”

Before either of them could get too comfortable, though, someone started yelling from them from the living room. Blue and Papyrus both bounded from the room to accept an unconscious Red from Papy’s shaking hands. “Papy!” Blue started, startled by his brother’s shaken appearance, “Are you—?”

“igottagobackfortheedgelord!”

With that, he was gone. Papyrus looked down at Red, who was clearly unconscious rather than asleep. He looked okay…but there was purple webbing wound around his arms and torso. Papyrus inhaled sharply, eyelights narrowing to pinpricks. “Blue,” he said, “go get the kitchen shears.”

“Right.”

After that, they had plenty to occupy their hands and minds. They tucked Red into the nest of blankets, stripping him out of his more constrictive clothing and making sure he was kept warm. He’d started shivering almost as soon as Papy passed him off, though his bones felt hot to the touch. Then, almost as soon as they’d gotten Red settled, Edge and Papy had returned…and if Blue was determined to keep Edge and Red in this universe before, he was convinced that there was no other option when he saw Edge drop to his knees, too unsteady on his feet to remain upright.

Papy had looked okay…physically. But he was obviously shaken, and he’d teleported straight to the bathroom for a shower almost without another word. That was concerning in and of itself, but Edge was in such bad shape that Blue couldn’t afford to worry overmuch about Papy at that moment.

Papyrus scooped Edge up out of the snow and carried him into the living room before depositing him carefully in the nest with Red. Blue’s heart ached, watching Edge pull Red into his arms and press their foreheads together. For all their gruffness and verbal sparring…they obviously cared about each other deeply. Blue and Papyrus shared a look, silently vowing that they would find a way to keep them both here. Keep them safe.

Squeezing Blue’s hand, Papyrus slipped away to join Edge and Red in the nest of blankets, projecting /SECURITY/STRENGTH/CARE/LOVE/STABILITY/ and speaking soothingly. Blue approached carefully, starting to project as well. Together, they managed to talk Edge out of his boots, armor, and gloves— ~~and stars above Blue was not going to think about the dust and the ichor covering said gloves~~ —and get him to settle down.

Surveying the damage, Blue struggled not to cry. Edge’s spine was punctured and his ilium and cheekbone were scratched and scored—Blue couldn’t begin to guess what might have happened to him, but those marks on his ilium made him suspect that he hadn’t just been fighting. Worse still, he’d burned through so much of his magic that the matrix holding his ribcage together had been reduced to mere threads. If Edge wasn’t careful, if they didn’t replenish his magic soon—

The thought came to him unbidden and, frankly, unwanted.

Swallowing tightly, Blue pushed the idea away and grabbed the first aid kit from the table and brought it over, digging around in it to distract himself. A simple splint to stabilize Edge’s spine would likely be the best he could do. Bandages and disinfectant for his various other injuries. He kept thinking about Edge’s ribcage, though, kept turning the idea over in his mind.

Edge would never agree to stay in Underswap. Not willingly.

Once Edge decided he was healed enough, then he and Red would return to Underfell. Risking life and limb and sanity for…for what?

Tears beaded in Blue’s sockets, but he pushed them down. He couldn’t afford to cry right now. He had to be strong. For Edge. For Papy. For Red and Papyrus and _himself_. He knew what he had to do, and he would need every ounce of willpower to do it.

“Edge?” he asked, settling beside the injured skeleton, “May I bandage your injuries?”

Edge sat up a little, regarding him blearily. His eyelights were unlit, his magic too low to maintain them. “why’re ya doin’ this?” he slurred, and for a moment, Blue’s soul froze, but then he realized it was no more than Edge’s typical suspiciousness.

“You’re hurt,” Blue said gently, starting to project more strongly. Edge shivered in response, his soul responding to the waves of /WARMTH/CARE/LOVE/SAFETY/AFFECTION/. “We just want to help,” he said, voice wavering, “We just want to make sure you’re-you’re taken care of.”

“wha’s in it fer you?” Edge asked, his accent still heavy.

Blue and Papyrus shared a look, their confusion obvious. “NOTHING, EDGY-ME,” Papyrus said, “WE CARE ABOUT YOU.”

“you—?”

Edge’s brows furrowed, and Blue laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. His breathing was shallow and too fast as he tried to hold down his tears. “Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, looking away when a blue tear rolled down his cheekbone. He wiped it away. “You’re hurt. Please. Let us help, Edge. That’s all we want to do.”

Edge looked between them, obviously uncertain. Even confused. Finally, though, he lowered himself back into the nest and said, “fine. do whatever ya want. not like i could stop ya anyway.”

That comment made Blue’s soul clench. Then, swallowing tightly, he started cleaning and bandaging all of Edge’s injuries, though he wouldn’t allow Blue to treat the marks on his ilium. Finally, there was only one thing left to do, and Blue knew he would have to go about this carefully or Edge would get suspicious.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Blue allowed his knee to slip backwards, hoping it would look like he’d lost his balance. He fell forward, angling himself so his elbow would hit Edge’s ribcage directly. Edge screamed as the delicate matrix broke under the strain, and the shattered remains of his ribcage broke apart, crumbling to dust within moments.

His scream cut off abruptly as he clapped a hand over his mouth, holding in his cries with willpower alone. Blue scrambled to his feet, apologies automatically falling from his mouth. From upstairs, Papy stumbled out of the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around his pelvis and water still dripping off his bones. “what happened?” he asked, nearly tripping over himself as he ran down the stairs. “what’s—?”

He fell silent when he caught sight of Edge, sockets wide and pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “It was an accident!” Blue said. The lie tasted foul, but the tears coursing down his cheekbones were genuine. “I didn’t mean to—I was trying to—“ He hiccupped, too upset to maintain even breaths.

Papy just knelt beside Edge, taking his hand. “call undyne,” he said, “we have to replenish his magic fast and make sure he’s stabilized.” Gripping Edge’s hand, he turned to his alternate and said, “i’ve got you, edgelord. i’m here. i’m here.” Curled in on himself and rendered mute by pain, Edge nevertheless held tight to Papy’s hand, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Swallowing tightly, Blue dug out his phone and called Undyne, explaining the situation as fast as he could. Then, before he hung up, Papy pulled Edge into his lap and said, “tell her i’m bringing him in.” Before Blue could protest that he wasn’t even dressed, Papy teleported away, taking Edge with him. On the other end of the line, Undyne cried out in surprise. Blue’s phone vision cut out suddenly when she dropped the phone. After a harsh clatter, the line went dead.

Tears continued to course down Blue’s cheekbones. Had he really just—? How could he—? A sob broke through, and he went to his knees.

“Blue,” Papyrus said softly. Blue looked up at him, breath hitching and features tear-stained. “It’s okay,” Papyrus whispered, motioning him over. Blue shook his head even as he crawled into the nest to tuck himself into Papyrus’ other side. If he knew what Blue had done— “You did the right thing,” Papyrus said against Blue’s acoustic meatus.

Blue jerked around to look at him. “W-what?”

Pulling Blue back against him, Papyrus continued to speak in a soothing whisper, his projections starting to lull even Blue. “You did what you had to. The bone will take months to regrow. Surely in that time, you’ll be able to convince him to remain here in Underswap, with you and your brother.”

“Y-you really think so?” Blue asked, burrowing into his side.

“Yes,” Papyrus said, “It will hurt him in the short-term…but in the long run, this is for the best.” He looked down at Red, still unconscious, and brought him in closer, running soothing fingers over his skull. “For both of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've honestly been holding onto this idea since I wrote Chapter 18 way back when. Hope you enjoyed this alternate path.


	4. ...pieced back together?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paps takes care of Edge after the events of 'Broken Pieces'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Falling Down, controlling/coercive behavior, past major injury, injury recovery, unhealthy relationships.

Edge carefully propped himself up, tugging his shirt up so he could get a look his ribcage. A thick red matrix wrapped the newly formed ribs within, the matrix still opaque from the particles of bone his magic produced. The new ribs were fragile and flexible, almost cartilaginous, and almost terrifyingly thin. He was a long way from healed, but he was getting there. Slowly but surely.

Glancing at the door, he closed his sockets and took a shallow breath. Bracing himself. This was going to hurt. Swapdyne— ~~he wasn’t going to think about his own Undyne, wasn’t going to wonder if she was okay or if she’d lost herself or how much LV she’d had to gain in his absence~~ —had emphasized that, while suppressing his pain was okay, he couldn’t numb himself entirely, or he’d likely only hurt himself further. She’d also said that it was okay for him to start doing little things for himself again, and she’d approved a very mild physical therapy routine for him, so he could start to regain lost bone mass.

He stood gingerly, ignoring how weak his legs felt. He’d been confined to the bed for over a month, and it showed. He felt weak as a kitten, and he _hated_ it. Swallowing, he shut his sockets, mentally reviewing Swapdyne’s instructions. Holding his arms out in front of him, he bent his elbows and slowly drew them down, squeezing his shoulder blades together. A brief twinge of pain made him flinch, and he relaxed a little, until the pain eased. He held his pose, then repeated the exercise, counting. Swapdyne had said he should try to do this three times a day, in sets of ten. She’d also said that it would be better for him to do his exercises while supervised, but that simply wasn’t feasible. He glanced at the door again.

Moving onto the next stretch, he lifted his arm, but he heard movement down the hall. Cursing under his breath, he gingerly climbed back into the bed. His bones shook, either from effort or adrenaline, and sweat beaded on them. Before he could try to find something to wipe the sweat away, his door opened and Paps walked in, smiling gently. “mornin’, sunshine,” he said, earning an eyeroll from Edge. He accepted the glass of milk Paps handed him, though. He was so tired of milk and calcium pills, but he well knew that they’d only help him in the long run. Still, he eyed Paps’ coffee with longing. Paps, however, lifted his arm and eyed the droplets of sweat. “edgelord?”

Edge wanted to pull his arm away, but he remembered the deal they’d established early on; if Paps wanted to touch him, then he was bound to keep to that. As time passed, it had become easier to bear the casual contact, but it still made Edge feel smothered and confined. He’d made that initial deal assuming that it would only be a few days. A week at most. He hadn’t thought their stay in Underswap would extend into months. Sometimes, he liked the contact, was somehow grateful for the deal that gave him an excuse to tolerate—or even initiate—those casual touches, but right now, it felt suffocating. “A bad dream,” he said, looking away.

“right,” Paps said, cupping his chin and forcing him to look at him. “you weren’t trying to push yourself too hard again were you, edgelord?”

“ _No_ ,” he said, eyelights flaring. Truth, this time.

“edge,” Paps said tiredly, but Edge lifted his chin, pulling out of Paps’ grip.

“Swapdyne—“

“you mean undyne?” Paps carefully corrected.

Edge’s mandible twitched. Finally, though, he grit out, “Undyne approved them.”

“and what does undyne know, huh? it’s not like she’s got any other skeleton monsters to use for comparison!”

“Invertebrates are the only monsters without skeletons. I’m certain she knows at least a little about the subject.”

“yeah? and you’re really willing to bet your life or your health on that? what if you end up hurting yourself? what if you make it worse? where will you be then?”

“Do you really think I’m that incompetent?”

“no, but you are exactly that stubborn! stubborn and _reckless_.”

Edge and Paps glared at each other. Paps was the first to soften. He reached out, one hand cupping the scarred side of Edge’s face. “edgelord, i just don’t want to see you hurt yourself. that’s all. undyne—“ His voice was hard and harsh. Angry. “—doesn’t exactly have a good track record.”

The reminder caused Edge to soften and look away. “She’s trying her best,” he said, tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Paps’ shoulder, rubbing one thumb over the place where his sternum met his collarbone. “He—“

Paps crumpled, bending nearly double. Carefully prying the coffee out of Paps’ hands and setting it on the bedside table beside his milk, Edge ran a soothing hand down Paps’ spine and scratched at his coronal suture. “i still don’t understand,” Paps said thickly, looking up at Edge. “he—? he was always so full of hope. how could he…how could he fall down just like that?”

Edge shook his head. He didn’t understand it himself—the look in Papyrus’ eyelights when he heard the news made Edge suspect _he_ might have some answers, but Papyrus had been avoiding them since Blue Fell Down. Paps barely allowed Edge out of his sight to sleep at night; he wasn’t going to let Edge track down Papyrus for an interrogation. “I don’t know either. Sometimes it happens,” he said softly, “I’m sorry.” It was all he could say.

Sitting up, Paps took hold of Edge’s hands and squeezed them tight. “don’t. don’t do anything to risk yourself, edgelord. please. i can’t…i can’t handle losing anyone else.”

If it were anyone else, Edge would suspect he was being manipulated, but Paps had all the subtly of a jackhammer at 3 AM. Still, he sighed and said, “I promise I will be careful.” It was the best he could offer, and thankfully, Paps seemed to accept that. He smiled slightly and pulled away.

“alright. i’m gonna go get breakfast for us. and you are gonna stay. right. here,” he said, and with a _ping_ , Edge’s soul turned blue, pinning him to the bed. Edge cursed, but as soon as he started to struggle, Paps leaned down and said, “you promised, edgelord. and you can stay like this until i get back. then we’re gonna eat, and maybe do a puzzle later. sound good?”

The thought of food made Edge nauseous, but Paps could be surprisingly stubborn when he wanted to be. Besides, anything would be better than being pinned to the bed all day. “Fine.”


	5. Societal norms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: You’ve been asked to help with the monster integration project. You’re more than delighted to assist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Body horror, medical experimentation, manipulation, othering, forced application of societal norms, mentioned/implied character death.

You were ecstatic to receive the master Magus’ summons. She briefed you on the details of her current project and passed over a dossier. “Do you understand what I expect of you?” she asked.

“Yes, Magus,” you said, nodding eagerly. You clutched the dossier to your chest, trying to remain professional, but a grin broke through regardless. It was just so exciting! Monsters returning to the surface after millennia locked away? Helping them integrate into human society? What a time to be alive! What a time to be numbered among the Magi—even if only as an apprentice.

The Magus surveyed you, smirking. “I understand your excitement, apprentice,” she said, eyes sparkling with amusement, “but please try to contain yourself.”

Sheepishly, you ducked your head, still grinning. “Yes, Magus. I understand, Magus.” She just shook her head, smiling indulgently.

“Come along, then. We’ll keep the meeting brief today, but you might as well introduce yourself to the patient.” Nearly giddy with excitement, you followed her through the double doors and into the decontamination room. “For now, we need to be extra cautious,” she warned you, “We don’t want to introduce any unfamiliar pathogens. We barely know anything about their immune systems, and it would be a shame to lose any of our patients so early in the program.” She ordered you to place all your equipment and personal items in one of the lockers, then guided you through the decontamination procedure and instructed you to put on a Tyvek suit, gloves, booties, and a facemask. Personal protective equipment in order, both of you stepped out onto the ward floor, while she continued to fill you in on the relevant details.

The scent of disinfectant was strong on the floor, and in the distance, you could hear muffled screaming. The Magus looked in the direction of the screams, but she didn’t seem concerned. “Nothing to worry about,” she said, when you hesitated, “If there was any kind of security breach, these lights would flash.” She pointed to one of the red lights that dotted the hallway. “And an alarm would sound. We haven’t had any real problems yet, and we likely won’t. Monsters are delicate, remember? We’re a greater danger to them than they are to us. At this stage, at least.”

Swallowing nervously, you followed her down the hall, some of your excitement deflated as the reality of the situation sank in. “I’d like to start you with one of our easier subjects,” the Magus said, “Non-violent. No LV. Shows every sign that he’s capable of integration, though he does seem resistant regardless.”

You faltered, just a little. “Resistant, Magus?” That honestly didn’t fit how you’d imagined this project might go. You were excited to help a wayward monster find their place on the surface…but you hadn’t expected to face any resistance. Not from the monster, at least. The picket line outside the coven’s quarters and the Magi Institute had seemed a more likely source.

“No more so than the others,” the Magus said brusquely, waving away your concerns, “They’ve all been less than cooperative. It’s unfortunate, really. Ah, well. Hopefully they’ll come to understand in time.”

“Yes, Magus,” you said, nodding firmly, even if you were becoming more and more unsure. Still, you weren’t going to waste such an opportunity. Not for anything.

Finally, she found the door she’d been searching for. Pulling the clipboard off the wall, she rattled off his case number and said, “He says his name is Sans, but he also answers to Blackberry.”

Face almost pressed against the glass of the observation window, you blink, then turn to look at her. “Those aren’t names.” Belatedly, you realize your error and add a ‘Magus’, remembering your manners.

“That will be part of your job,” she said, passing over a small book of baby names as well as the clipboard. “Convince him to chose a name for himself. Something normal. Something human.” You nodded firmly, looking back at the room and the monster inside. Unlike some of the monsters you’d passed, he wasn’t strapped down or sedated. He seemed to be sitting up in the bed, flipping through a book. “You’re ready?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“Good luck then,” she said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

You bowed as she passed, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before straightening. The patient was staring at you. His ‘eyes’ nothing more than pinpricks of light set deep in his empty sockets. You plastered on a smile and knocked on the door, trying to ignore the way your heart had started hammering when your gaze met his. He didn’t answer, but you entered away. “Good morning!” you said cheerfully as you stepped inside. “How are you today?”

“Where’s my brother?” he asked, and then you realized that you’d been wrong. He was bound, somewhat. His left hand was encased in a steel-mesh cuff. Given his sharp teeth, you suspected that they’d rejected cloth restraints, concerned he might chew through them. He was not otherwise bound to the bed, though, and your heart started hammering as you realized that you were in the same room as a sharp-toothed, clawed skeleton monster.

You had to take a deep breath, reminding yourself of what the master Magus had said. Monsters were delicate, and you were a much greater danger to him than he was to you. Smiling broadly—and hoping that it didn’t look forced—you said brightly, “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss other patients.”

He sniffed, bright blue tears beading in the corners of his sockets. “Please,” he said, “I just-I just need to know if he’s okay. Please, can’t you tell me anything?”

You blinked. You really hadn’t been expected that. For some reason you hadn’t thought that they would form familial attachments. You turned to your clipboard and scribbled down a note about familial bonding and needing more research. Then you glanced at the notes, but as you’d expected, there was nothing there about a brother. “I’m sorry—“

“ _Please_ ,” the small skeleton said, sliding from the bed and onto his knees. “I’ll do anything you ask. Just,  _please,_  tell me what happened to my brother.”

Carefully, you maintained a neutral expression, then you tucked the clipboard under your arm and considered him. He was shaking in his loose hospital gown, hard enough to cause his bones to rattle. The tears fell freely from his sockets then, and you smiled sadly. It was amazing, really, how human they were at times. “I’ll make a deal with you,” you said, keeping your voice gentle, “why don’t flip through this book of names and we get to know each other a little. Then, before I come back tomorrow, I’ll find out what I can about your brother. Does that seem fair?”

He looked at you, sockets wide and head shaking slightly. “Please. Can’t you find out about my brother now, and we can do that later?”

You remembered what the master Magus had said and made a note on your clipboard. ‘Patient is non-cooperative.’ When you finished with your notes, you looked back up at him and said, “I’m afraid that you need to show me that you’re willing to work with me first.” He searched your features, his small ribcage rising and falling rapidly.

“I—“ He choked, then his sockets slipped closed and he looked at the ground. “I’m not changing my name,” he said grimly.

“I’m not asking you to,” you said patiently, “I just want to look through this book. See if there are any in here that strike your fancy.”

Still looking at the ground, he nodded. “Fine. Deal.”

“Why don’t you get back up on the bed? It can’t be comfortable down there.”

Sockets shut and his whole body shuddered, he let out an explosive breath like an aborted sob. He covered his sockets, body shaking. You waited patiently, allowing him to get himself under control before climbing back up on the bed. After that, you sat on the chair beside the bed and handed him the book, positioning the clipboard so you could take notes without him seeing. Beside your first note, you scribbled, ‘Open to negotiation. Seems over-emotional. In need of mood-stabilizers?’

That first visit was relatively short. You barely got into the ‘B’ names before he started asking about his brother again. You began to see why the master Magus had called you in. Your main trait was patience, after all. When it became clear that the patient wasn’t going to cooperate any further, you stood and left the room, promising to be back tomorrow.

You were a mage of your word, though, even if you were only an apprentice; you sought out any records on the small skeleton’s brother, only to come up empty-handed. You’d hoped that he was among the other monsters in the program, but it looked like he might have been one of those deemed too aggressive for integration. That was unfortunate. You’d thought you might be able to use him as a reward for good behavior, but not if he was too dangerous to interact with safely. It was even possible he’d already been euthanized, but to find that out, you’d need to search out his records, and that seemed like a good deal more effort than it was worth. Especially if he wasn’t going to be of any use to you anyway.

No. The small skeleton was your concern. The other didn’t matter.

So you typed up your notes and sent them to the Magus, hoping that she would be pleased with your progress. It seemed she was, because she replied with orders to return the next day and continue to build a report with him. They were ready to proceed to the next stage of the project, but they wanted to see some positive changes in his behavior first. He hadn’t really been eating properly, and he was uncommunicative. It would be your job to get him to eat and to start talking more openly. They needed you to gain his trust and cooperation before they could initiate the next stage.

You were practically giddy when you received those orders. It was a difficult task, no doubt, but the Magus had confidence in your abilities, and you were  _ecstatic_  to be given the chance to prove yourself. Perhaps you could even write a case study on him, with the Magus’ approval, of course. But wouldn’t that be something? Getting published in a real, peer-reviewed journal before you were even out of your apprentice’s robes? The very idea was enough to make your heart hammer. No surprise at all that you weren’t able to sleep much that night.

The next day, however, the small skeleton was there to prove to you that this wouldn’t be all fame and glory. There was some hard work required before you could bask in your accomplishments. “Where’s my brother?” he asked as soon as you walked in.

You paused. “I’m sorry. I can’t find his records. He isn’t part of the program.”

The small skeleton froze, and you could practically see him turning those words over. “So…he’s free?”

No. He wasn’t free. You were almost certain of that. But…. “I can’t say. We have no record of another skeleton monster. He is a skeleton, correct?”

“Yes,” the smaller skeleton said, relief making him giggle. For a moment, you would have sworn that his pinprick pupils morphed into stars. “He’s—“ He covered his mouth, laughing again. Straightening, he looked at you and said, “Thank you.”

You smiled back at him. “You’re welcome.” You took a seat beside his bed again and offered him the book of names again. “I was thinking we might—“ But he didn’t take the book. Your smile froze on your face. “Continue. Where we left off yesterday.”

“My name is Sans,” he said simply, “Sans the skeleton. Comic if you’re being formal. Blackberry if ‘Sans’ is a bit too confusing.” He giggled at that, like he was sharing a private joke.

You set the book in his lap, ignoring the way your heart-rate kicked up. It would be all too easy for him to reach out with those clawed hands or snap at you with those razor-sharp teeth. “Those really aren’t…names,” you said delicately, “Among humans. If you’re going to be part of human society, you need to—“

He turned to you, eyelights flaring in his socket. “I’m not human,” he reminded you, “Having a human name isn’t going to change that.”

“No,” you said carefully, “but it’s a good place to start.”

He stared at you, then brought his knees up to his chest and looped his arms around them. The book of names tumbled from his lap and onto the floor, the paperback cover bending carelessly. Any other attempts at communication that day were met with silence. When the afternoon meal tray was brought in, he eyed it with suspicion, then shunted it to the side, untouched.

You had your work cut out for you.

Over the next several weeks, you took your time, trying to wear down the small skeleton. He was stubborn, but you were patience incarnate. At some point, you figured out that he would eat the cookies or the tater tots they served on the trays. So you got approval from the master Magus, and started to bring in a few treats when you came to visit him. A small bag of chips—or ‘chisps’ as he called them—and a cookie. A muffin. A donut. These small offerings were met with suspicion at first, and he resisted when you tried to use them as leverage. Eventually, though, his resistance started to wear down. He accepted the chips with a small smile, and he agreed to look at one or two pages of the book of names. He nibbled at the donut and asked if it was made with spiders, while you hid your horror and revulsion at the question.

Progress was slow, but finally…. “Why don’t you ever use my name?” he asked, taking a sip of the tea you’d brought for him. His posture was more relaxed, one leg up and his bound hand resting on the knee, the other leg extended before him.

“I told you,” you said, “It’s not a name. ‘Sans’ means ‘without’. Do you really want me to call you that? That doesn’t seem a little negative to you?”

He looked away, clutching the mug against his sternum. “…tell me about the surface?” he asked.

You smiled and brought out a gardening magazine you’d picked up just for him. “Here,” you said, passing it over, “I thought you might like to look at this.” He tentatively took the magazine and flipped through it.

“Do all humans have gardens like this?” he asked, skeletal fingers smoothing over the page.

You laughed, thinking of your own patch of yellowed grass and weeds. “No, not all…but I know plenty of people that keep beautiful gardens.” He nodded, studying the pages as you described what it was like to walk through the neighborhood in spring. The smell of jasmine floating on the wind. The taste of nectar from a honeysuckle flower. The buzzing of bees. The beauty of a well-tended garden. He listened in silence, looking at each page.

“You know,” you reminded him, “it’s going to be spring soon enough. If you’re willing to work with us….” You reached out, clasping his shoulder—and ignoring the way your skin puckered into gooseflesh, feeling raw bone under your hand as you squeezed. “…you could be out there come spring time. We don’t want to keep you imprisoned here,” you said, “Integration is our goal. But you need to work with us.”

“Barry,” he suddenly said, and you cocked your head. He’d drawn his legs up to his chest again, but he had the magazine pressed to his chest protectively. “Call me Barry. That’s…that’s a name, right?”

Your smile could have lit up a dark room, you were sure.

In a matter of days, the master Magus approved Barry for the next stage in the program, and then agreed to allow you to remain in the observation booth as he underwent the next phase in the program. He was understandably nervous, but you did your best to reassure him, saying that you’d be right there the whole time, even if you couldn’t be in the same room with him. You waved at him from the observation station, and he waved back tentatively.

“Is this going to hurt?” you asked the Magus.

She shrugged. “We’re not sure. The procedure is easier with the others. Many of them needed to have certain features altered or removed. With him, however….” She shrugged. “It’s about addition rather than subtraction.”

You nodded and approached the glass, watching as a pair of Magi stood to either side of him. They raised their hands, magic glimmering between their fingers. Barry closed his sockets as the magic started to wrap around him. You raised a hand, touching the glass as his soul—a beautiful dark blue—appeared in his chest. His sockets opened and he touched his sternum, apparently confused.

He looked at you, and you smiled encouragingly as dark blue magic started to leak from his soul. It pooled first in his abdomen…then it started to coil and curl. The Magi stepped closer, one of them lowering his hand to focus his magic on the twisting magic in Barry’s abdomen. Barry cried out, but the other Magus caught his hands before he could curl in on himself, holding Barry’s hands over his head.

You squinted, focused intently on the swirling mass in Barry’s abdomen. Then you smiled openly as ropes of pink started to emerge from the blue magic. The second Magus knelt down to make sure the intestines were coiling properly as Barry started to buck and kick. The Magus pressed the microphone attached to his lapel and asked, “Can we get a gag and some restraints in here?” he sounded annoyed and bored, though you were nearly bursting out of your skin in excitement.

Most of Barry’s internal organs had formed now. The ropes of intestine were bundled neatly in his abdomen, and his lungs and heart—the physical organ overlaying the inverted heart that composed his soul—were nestled perfectly in his ribcage. Pockets of protective fat started to pack around the organs, as an orderly wrestled a gag into Barry’s mouth. Tears coursed down his cheekbones, though you couldn’t tell if he was actually crying or if his newly formed eyes were starting to water due to his lack of eyelids. Blood vessels sprung out of his freshly formed heart, connecting it to his new organs.

Ropes of muscle started to wrap around his bones, tendons anchoring them to his joints. The muscle faded from a dark blue, born once again out of Barry’s rich magic, to a deep, angry looking red. Each fiber was stretched taut as Barry fought against the restraints, screaming into the gag. You and the other Magi watched passively as a new layer of subcutaneous fat padded out his raw-looking muscles.

The master Magus chuckled a little. “Your boy’s a bit on the chubby side, apprentice.”

You smiled back at her. “He’s just big-boned,” you retorted, earning another chuckle. You only looked away, blushing a little, when his genitals formed. “So can we call this a success?” you asked.

“We’ll see how he adjusts to the changes,” she said, but there was a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “But tentatively? Yes, apprentice. I’d call this a success.”

A smile broke over your features and you turned back to watch Barry, grateful one of the orderlies had thought to wrap a towel around his hips. Dark blue patches of magic were forming over his muscles, but the blue was fading to a deep brown as it spread over the raw flesh. Soon enough, Barry—still gagged and held upright by an annoyed-looking orderly—stood before you. Human enough…even if his eyes remained an unnaturally dark shade of blue and his teeth were still unnaturally sharp. The teeth could be filed down, at least, though you didn’t think much could be done about the eyes.

With the transfiguration complete, the orderlies removed the gag and released him carefully, stepping away as he sank to his knees, staring at his hands. His breath hitched, and he ran a hand down his arms, his chest, his face. He shook his head, starting to shake. When he dug his fingernails into his flesh and started to scrape at the skin, though, one of the Magi motioned for an orderly and they bound him again. Through the glass, you thought you read the word ‘tranquilizer’ on a Magus’ lips.

“We’ll begin re-education after he’s started his physical therapy,” the Magus said, jotting down a few notes, “I’ll keep you updated on his progress, if you’re interested, but I’d prefer to assign you to another monster for the time being. We don’t want either of you to form any undue attachments, you understand?”

“Of course, Magus,” you said, still smiling, “I understand completely.”

Later, you thought, you’d bring up the possibility of submitting your experiences as a case study. For now, you were happy enough to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not 100% happy with this one, but.... Eh. It's not the worst thing ever, I suppose.


End file.
